Worried
by josephina
Summary: [Miracle] Mac worries about Johnson during the infamous Herbies drill. SLASH. MacJohnson


**Author's Note: Hey guys, this is my first shot at a Miracle fic, as well as my first shot at slash. I intended to write a brief, fluffy one-shot, yet somehow it turned into something a bit racier. I guess I just have a dirty mind ) I appreciate any sort of criticism, as long as it's constructive. Oh, and of course I don't own anything. This is completely fictional, and based on the characters in the movie, not the actual people. **

The first time I kissed him was after the Norway game.

We were completely, utterly drained. Two hours of playing followed by two hours of Herbies was torture, and I'm honestly surprised that we lived through it. I don't remember getting off the ice, showering, or changing into my sweats. All I know is that suddenly I was back at the hotel, leaning against the wall while Johnson fumbled with the room key. After what seemed like years, he pushed open the door and we staggered inside. Neither one of us bothered to flick on the light; Johnson made a beeline for his bed and collapsed. I did the same, expecting to lose consciousness and feel nothing but pure bliss for my aching body. Instead, I was surprisingly wide awake.

I lay still for a few moments, listening to Mark's deep, even breaths across the room, and I thought back to earlier, when I was in the worst pain of my life. Every muscle in my body had been throbbing and the pressure in my temples was so fierce I kind of wished my head would burst, just to relieve some of the stress. I remembered doubling over in pain while staring at the goal line, willing whatever was churning in my stomach to stay there. Despite my own agony, I had kept a close eye on Johnson throughout the drill. He may be our star player, but he's always seemed more vulnerable than the others, with his big blue eyes and nervous mannerisms, and I always make it my responsibility to look out for him. He wasn't looking good— his curly hair was soaked and dripping underneath his helmet, and his fair skin was impossibly paler than usual. I felt a pang of something as I watched him fall feebly to the ice, forehead near his knees.

I don't know what inspired me then, lying so still in my sheets (maybe it was the darkness that made me bolder, or just the crazy, heart-wrenching affection swiftly boiling inside me, threatening to spill over if I didn't do something immediately), but suddenly I leapt out of my bed and crossed the room to Mark in four long strides. Without hesitating once, I slid underneath the covers, firmly wrapped my arm around his slim waist and pulled him close. He stiffened at first, though I think it was due more to his jumpy nature than to the fact that I was touching him so intimately. We stayed frozen in that position for an instant, tasting each other's breath, noses just barely brushing one another. After about 15 seconds, however, I couldn't take it any longer (I've never been known for my patience), and I closed the last gap between us.

We were tentative at first; nothing more than gentle pecks here and there. My palm was pressed lightly against his lower back; his fingers were tracing circles along my left shoulder. Gripping his hips, I rolled over so that I was pinning him under me, and he finally opened his mouth to my kiss. Cautiously, I slid my hand from his hip across and underneath his thin t-shirt to stroke the feathery soft hairs right below his bellybutton. He gasped into my mouth, and I realized, shocked, how hard he was, his arousal pushing into mine. This was nothing like being with OC, I recognized with some sort of grim satisfaction, who always needed a few beers in him and a few punches at me to get it up. Even if Mark had been drunk, I had a feeling that he would still be harder than OC could ever be.

Mark's shirt came off first, followed quickly by my sweatpants. Soon it was just skin on skin, sharp hipbone against sharp hipbone, pulses pounding furiously. I began to stroke his length, testing his reaction. He rewarded me by bucking into my palm and letting out a deep, throaty moan. Without warning, Mark slid out from under me, so we were lying side by side once again. I watched in hazy astonishment as he reached for me, miming the action I was performing on him. I wanted to last longer, but this was _Mark_, and his limbs are so lean and his eyes are so blue, that it wasn't long before my body tensed and released waves of pleasure from my calves to my shoulders.

We were quiet for a long time after that, letting our bodies cool to their usual temperature, listening to our rough breathing slowly return to normal.

"So," Johnson said, startling the silence of the hotel room. "What brought that on?"

"Um," I said, unsure of how to explain. "I was worried about you tonight, during the drills."

"Oh." He answered calmly, true to form. I had already begun to drift off to sleep before he spoke again.

"So does this mean that you're going to jump me every time we have to do Herbies?"

I thought for a moment. "Yes."

"Ok."

**Last Author's Note: Well, I hope you liked it! Reviews are better than cookies. **


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